


It's Complicated

by TigerLilyNoh



Series: The Uncomfortable Adventures of Sam in Law School [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Sam, Bisexual Sam Winchester, Law Student Sam, M/M, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Polyandry, Unhealthy Relationships, past Tyson Brady/Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerLilyNoh/pseuds/TigerLilyNoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm a Supernatural fic writer, who is currently going to law school in the Bay Area, so I figured I'd write some vignettes of Sam in law school.</p><p>Collection theme: Sam chose law school over hunting, but it wasn't exactly how he'd imagined it.</p><p>This ficlet: Sam gets a surprise visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Lastarael for beta reading this.

"Sam, some guy is looking for you," said Debbie, one of the resident assistants for Sam's dorm.  She was dividing her attention between studying and watching a soccer match on her laptop, but she'd glanced up in time to spot Sam returning from running a few quick errands.

"Yeah?  What'd he look like?" Sam asked as he looked around the lobby for his surprise visitor.

"Dirty blonde hair, kinda pretty boy.  He's probably still waiting up there.  I told him you were just grabbing your laundry."

"Fuck."  Sam looked at stairwell leading up to his floor.  He wondered whether Dean might've finally come back and tracked him down.  This was a terrible time for that kind of drama.  He was starting to get into a rhythm.  The idea of stirring up the past was unappealing, but so was hiding out in the lobby with a basket full of his underwear.

He walked up the stairs while trying to run through opening lines.  What could he say that he hadn't already left in a dozen different voicemails?  Would he even be willing to let Dean into his place?  It'd be easier to talk in his room, but that meant it'd also be easier to fight.  Maybe there was something to be said for keeping their interactions to a public location?  That would put Dean on the defensive, having to verbally tiptoe around the hunting aspects of their falling out.

"Hey Sam, it's been a long time."

Sam saw Brady standing by his door.  Brady, with his sandy blonde hair and pretty face —h e should've known it'd be him instead of Dean.  Sam wasn't sure how to feel.  In some ways it was a let down, that things between Dean and him would remain unresolved, but on the plus side Brady was a less complicated relationship... slightly less complicated.

"Let me ply you with wine and food.  It looks like you need it," Brady said as he held up a bottle of Merlot and a plastic bag of to-go boxes.

It had been about a year and a half since they'd seen each other.  Brady had stopped by to check on him after Jess' death.  Everything had been so confusing and wrong that somehow they'd gotten into another argument over some stupid thing.  That had been the final straw that sent him down the peninsula to attend law school at Santa Clara instead of staying at Stanford.  He'd wanted to get away—to run away again.  Occasionally, he thought about reaching out to Brady, but it just seemed overly complicated.  Yet, despite everything, he was a comforting face during a difficult time, so Sam let Brady into his studio-style room.

"I'm digging the whole spartan pauper thing you've got happening here," Brady commented on the barely furnished room.

"It's an easy look to pull off when you're broke."  Aside from his scholarship, he technically was living below the federal poverty line.  When he was done buying his medication and food, there wasn't enough to splurge on things like a TV.  Thank god he'd had his laptop with him when the fire happened.  Even a  bottom-of-the-line computer would've cost over a month's worth of income.  He'd managed to stretch his budget thanks to grabbing the occasional free meal at club meetings, but that couldn't be counted on for every day of the week.

Every month or two he thought about taking out some loans, but the idea made him more uncomfortable than hunger.  Maybe it was how often he saw financial fraud growing up or maybe it was his fear of being too much in the system.  Eventually he'd need to be just like everyone else, but he wanted to wait until the statute of limitations was done running on any causes of action he may have committed before leaving Dean and his dad.  In a few years he'd feel a lot better about doing anything that might initiate a credit check.

"What are you doing for money?" Brady asked as he started unpacking the bag of La Villa ravioli on the flimsy card table.

"I tutor undergrads."  Sam pulled a glass and coffee mug from his kitchenette cupboard, then sat down to join him.  "Latin, history, a little math—whatever they need."

"You always were the jack of all trades."  Brady started uncorking the bottle of wine.  He poured himself a glass, then started filling Sam's mug, but Sam stopped him at half a glass.  "Do you like it at least?  Maybe thinking about going into teaching afterwards?"

"It's okay.  I try not to get involved with their personal lives, so it's pretty dry.  I don't know what I want to do long term at this point."  He didn't want to think too far ahead.  "What're you up to?"

"I'm still in med school, focusing on pharmaceutical development.  My dad pulled some strings to get me set up with a job after graduation."

"Big pharma?  You're going to serve the right hand of evil?"  Sam chuckled, but honestly he could see Brady merging his interest in medicine and his shark-like business instincts.  He was the kind of person who would end up with hundreds of subordinates and a seven figure income—the only question was whether he'd sell sin or salvation.  Sam had been Brady's moral compass for years; he was curious how far his friend had strayed after so long apart.

"They save lives too," Brady countered.

Sam glanced helplessly at the outer pocket of his backpack, which held a plethora of  over-the-counter and prescription medication.  He had a point.  Maybe Brady hadn't gone as dark side as he'd feared?

"Fair enough."  Sam finished his wine and didn't object when Brady refilled his mug.  "You're only a year into school and you've already got a job lined up?"

Brady grinned.  "My dad can be pretty cutthroat."  

They chatted about school, current events, movies, music, and more.  It was nice to have a real conversation with someone other than his psychiatrist.  Brady may not have known about the hunting, but he knew him better than basically anyone.  Sam could talk fairly candidly, though he wasn't quite prepared to get into the whole hallucinations and headaches thing.  Expressing too much vulnerability all at once would just be an invitation for Brady to embed himself back in his life.  It was good to reconnect, but it could quickly get out of hand—and it did.

"Move back up to Palo Alto."  Brady leaned in across the little table.  Sam knew he was trying to make puppy eyes at him—that was a move he knew too well to be fooled by.  

Sam spoke into his mug as he finished his third glass of wine.  "I don't have that kind of money, even with financial aid."  

"You could move back in with me."  

He'd seen that offer coming a mile away.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."  They had each downed half a bottle of wine and were a bit too drunk to be having that conversation.

"I'm two blocks from the Caltrain station.  You could catch the express train and get to school in 15 minutes."  Brady continued his pitch.  "The offer's always open for you.  I live to serve."

"I call bullshit on that."  Sam laughed at the idea of Brady doing charity work.

"Well... yeah, but you're—."

"Different."  Sam finished the sentence for him.  Brady always liked to remind him that he wasn't like the others.  Being set apart from normalcy had bugged Sam for a long time until he'd noticed the admiration on Brady's face each time he'd said it.  "Yeah, I know."

"No, you have no idea."

* * *

 

Sam woke up to an awful headache that could've been from either his medical condition or the mild hangover, but he was a little surprised to realize that he hadn't had a nightmare.  It was a nice change of pace, but he didn't want to start reading anything into it.

Brady was still sleeping, partially sprawled across Sam, and just as naked as he was.  Sam rolled his eyes at the horrible mixing of signals, then tried to wriggle free without waking Brady.  He grabbed his watch from the floor next to his shoes, where it'd fallen in the chaos.  Brady shifted, moved closer, and started gently nibbling on Sam's collarbone.

"Don't, not right now," Sam said as he started putting on his watch.

"Come on, you need to loosen up.  You're too damn tense."  Brady started rubbing his neck, but Sam gently stopped him.

"I'm gonna be late for class."

"Then skip it entirely," Brady whispered in Sam's ear.  "Problem solved."

"If I get even one C I'll lose my scholarship.  I need this."  Any playfulness in Sam's voice disappeared when he started talking about his desperate state.  "It's not just school, it's my healthcare and half my meals."

"I was serious about helping you out."  Brady started moving down Sam's torso to give him head, but Sam grabbed his arms more forcefully to stop him.

"I thought we weren't going to do this anymore."  He knew bringing up their agreement would wholly kill whatever lightheartedness may have still existed, but he didn't want Brady to just pretend that everything was fine.  

Brady's expression turned colder.  "You and Jess were the ones that wanted to try the whole two-to-tango thing."

"Don't give me any of that shit."  Sam's eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke.  "You were the one pushing.  We were happy and you couldn't just leave it."

"Pushing?  I just wanted the three of us to be out.  Whenever we were in public it was like I was just a friend.  I fucking introduced you two and I got delegated to third wheel whenever you two wanted to fit in.  You were so concerned with being normal, or appearing normal—Did you two even tell your families that you were living together after you two left?"

"My family doesn't count and you know it."  Sam hated it when Brady brought up Dean and his dad.  It was a known sore point, which meant the mild jab was intentional.

"Did you even meet Jess's parents?"  When Sam didn't answer, Brady's eyebrows raised knowingly.  "Was the funeral the first time they found out she was fucking someone?"

"They're old fashioned.  If all three of us were still living together it would've been so much worse—it was…."  Sam dragged the pillow down over his face.  He didn't want to be having that conversation with his ex-boyfriend, especially while naked and in such an awkward moment.

"Did they tear you apart for living together?"  To Sam's surprise, Brady's voice was offended and slightly concerned instead of mocking.  "What happened?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter.  You shouldn't have to take shit from anyone."  By some fucked-up standard, Brady's proximate outrage felt sweet and comforting.

"They'd just lost their daughter."  Sam pulled the pillow away from his face, but wasn't feeling good by any means.

"They barely knew Jess.  Meanwhile you were the love of her life.  Fuck them."

"Brady…."  Half of him wanted to argue with Brady, but it was hard to tell if those feelings were based on sympathy for Jessica's parents or his own low self-esteem.  The other half was still trying to process that despite everything that had happened between them, even on such a sensitive subject, Brady was sticking up for him.

"Stop telling yourself that you come second.  You need to learn to put yourself first sometimes.  You let yourself turn into such a pushover."  Brady pinned Sam to the bed.  Sam's watch pressed into his skin, reminding him of his tight schedule.  He tried to get up, but Brady held him down.

"Come on, I'm gonna be late."  Sam gave him an unamused look.  "I'm not in the mood for playing games."

"I'm not playing around.  You used to have some fucking confidence.  Where's your will to fight?"  Brady pressed on Sam as an attempted provocation.  He could break all of Brady's limbs in about six seconds if he tried, but that wasn't the problem.  Maybe he had gotten a little complacent during his depressive period.

"Get off," he said with more determination.

"Make me."

Sam pulled Brady down into a kiss.  His arms wrapped around Brady's back, gripping his ass and the back of his head.  Suddenly, Sam rolled them both off the bed onto the floor.  His hand protected Brady's skull from colliding with the hardwood floor.  Sam leaned back from his position pinning Brady to the floor.

"I have class until noon.  Just lock the door if you aren't gonna wait for me."


End file.
